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37

Summer

I ’m already dressed when Connor knocks on the door. I expected him around thirty minutes ago, but he hasn’t replied to my texts. How dare he make me rely on his presence and not text me back? I’ve obviously become accustomed to him instantly responding and being at my beck and call. I open the door, and any frustration I feel melts away at the sight of him. His face is pale, his eyes haunted, and he’s visibly shaken. The sight of his distress puts me on immediate alert.

“Con?” I whisper, touching his cheek.

“N-no classes today. A-a student has been killed.” Connor’s voice is quiet, uneasy, and trembling.

Connor barges past me, bolting into my room, and I hear him retching into the toilet. I run after him, kneeling next to him and rubbing his back. “Connor?”

He pants into the toilet, his hands clinging to the porcelain. “Fuck. Her eyes are full of flies…”

I grab a towel, running it under the cold water before pressing it to his forehead. He’s dripping with cold sweat. My stomach rolls as his words finally sink in. A student has been killed.

Connor sits back, looking down at his hands. Horror lines his face as if he can see the victim’s blood clinging to his skin. I know that look. There was a time I sat in the same exact place and stared at my fingers in the exact same way. Though I actually had blood coating my skin. I glance at Alice, who nods and goes to the kitchen to get him a glass of water.

“Fuck.” Connor’s whole body is shaking. “I got… I got the deputy headmistress. She-she said she would bring the headmaster.”

I nod, cupping his cheek and pressing the cool, damp cloth to his face. “You did well, big guy. You did well.”

His eyes fill with tears, and the sight nearly breaks my heart. “She was…” He closes his eyes, squeezing them tight. A look of agony flashes across his face before he opens them again. “They fucking broke her. There was barely anything left.”

I’ve never seen him like this. He’s sunshine. He’s happy. Now, something’s shattered in him. And his eyes… Oh gods, I know those eyes. I see the same haunted shadows in mine when I look in the mirror, the same grief and devastation of spirit. My chest aches. Something pure was lost today, and it is a tragedy. Connor should have remained unspoiled his whole life. There needs to be some true good left in the realms.

I shift so I’m kneeling between his legs and cup his cheek, gently lifting his head. “Con. Look at me.”

He whimpers, and his haunted gaze meets mine. “I was such a coward.” A tear slowly trails down his cheek, and another pang echoes through my chest. He is a warrior angel, raised to fight in the Heavenly Host, but theory and reality are very different.

“She was dead when you found her, big guy.” I move closer and press my forehead to his.

There is another loud knock on the front door. “I’m here to speak to Mr. Morningstar.” The headmaster’s voice rumbles through the dorm, carrying into the bathroom even though there are two doors separating us. Within a few moments, his tall build fills the doorway. I wipe the tears from Connor’s face but look up at the headmaster, surprised to see him in something other than his tailored suit. He’s wearing well-fitted dark jeans and a sweater that hugs every muscle.

“Mr. Morningstar. Miss Tuatha De Daanan.” Even his voice is different. It’s less icy, though there is still no warmth in it.

I stand and offer Connor my hand to help him up.

“We have some things to discuss,” the headmaster continues, gesturing for us to leave the bathroom. The headmaster leads the way back into the living room, and I make sure to keep myself between him and Connor. Alice offers Connor a glass of water.

I sit on the couch next to Connor, and the headmaster picks up one of the dining room chairs, placing it across the coffee table from us. I forgot how suffocating his presence is in a normal-sized room. His silver eyes slide over me before settling on Connor. Every nerve in my body lights up with that single look, and I know he has seen more than any of us wants.

Connor swallows, placing his hand on my thigh, and I link my arm around his, holding onto his wrist.

“Did you see?—”

“I did.” The headmaster nods solemnly. His face gives nothing away, but his eyes whirl, the silver alive. “Her family has been notified, and we will release a notification to the school once they collect her.”

I shift against Connor, and the headmaster immediately turns his attention to me as if he is hyper aware of my every breath. “Who was she?”

He lifts his chin, his gaze locked on mine, caging me there. “She was a third-year fae. Gia Tuatha De Daanan.”

Connor closes his eyes, and I look at him, placing my other hand on his arm. I scoot even closer, pressing against his side as if I can protect him from the horrors he witnessed. If I could, I would soak them from his skin and into me. What’s a few more in a lifetime of them?

“What were you doing on campus so early, Mr. Morningstar?” the headmaster asks, and my eyes flash back to him.

“He was coming to have breakfast with me,” I reply for him. The headmaster’s gaze flits back to me. There is something within it I can’t identify. “Before class,” I add, lowering my gaze.

Connor nods. “My parents left this morning, and the plan was to have breakfast early before heading into class, but I…” He swallows, squeezing my thigh, his fingers digging in for mooring. “I saw blood leaking from the?—”

The headmaster holds his hand up, stopping Connor. “I believe you may have seen more than you realize. I would like to look through your memories. With your consent, of course.”

I muffle a gasp of surprise. Memory walking? That is supposed to be some borderline impossible magic. Erasing memories is easier than walking through them without shattering the person’s mind. How powerful is the headmaster exactly?

Connor swallows audibly. “All right.”

The headmaster stands and looks at me once again, that impenetrable stare pinning me to the couch. “May we use your bedroom, Miss Tuatha De Daanan?”

I nod. “Of course.”

Connor stands and walks to my bedroom. I move to follow, but the headmaster steps in front of me, stopping me in my tracks.

“This is not something you should see, Miss Tuatha De Daanan.”

“But—” I hear Connor protest from behind him.

“No,” the headmaster replies, his face hardening into a mask of stone. His eyes lock on me. Does he sense that I’m the one who’s more likely to protest?

“But, sir?—”

His lips tighten even more. “This is not a request.”

“Yes, sir,” I say, lowering my gaze again, instinctively knowing not to push anymore.

The headmaster turns on his heel and disappears into my room.

“I’ll be right out here, big guy,” I whisper. Connor smiles wanly at me as he closes the door.

Alice paces the living room, mumbling half in English and half in some vampiric tongue. “Fuck. A murder? And it wasn’t me?” She continues to mutter, wearing a path back and forth as she tries to connect the information she’s already gathered about the murder. She’s way too nosey for her own good. Normally, I’d be riling her up, encouraging her research and tangents, but now all my thoughts are on Connor.

My head snaps toward the closed door when I hear Connor whimper. I wince at the pain he must be going through in having to relive something so traumatic. I hurry to the door and lean against it in a show of support. Touching my fingers to the wood, I close my eyes, mentally reaching out to him. After ages of listening to Connor’s pain, his whimpers taper off, and the door swings open. I practically fall into the headmaster. He grips my arm reflexively to steady me. He still wears that blank expression, his face locked into a mask of hardened nothing . Does he feel anything?

“Miss Tuatha De Daanan. Were my orders unclear?” he says coldly.

My cheeks heat slightly. “You told me I couldn’t come into the room, and I didn’t.”

He narrows his eyes and then locks his gaze on Alice. “Not a word to anyone.”

Alice nods, and then he looks at me, waiting until I also acknowledge his command with a nod. Not waiting for him to say anything else, I skirt around him and into the bedroom, careful not to touch him. Connor is lying on my bed and seems to be lingering somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness. Memory walking is incredibly draining to the subject.

“Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Morningstar,” the headmaster says.

I sit on the edge of the bed and glance at him over my shoulder. “Is there anything I can do to help, sir?”

He shakes his head. “I will take care of it. No one harms my students. No one .”

With that declaration, resolute knowledge wraps around me. No one crosses the headmaster and lives long. I almost pity the person who becomes the focus of his fury. I look at Connor. Almost.

My brows furrow when the headmaster clears his throat, drawing my attention back to him. He lifts his chin again. “Not a word,” he commands before spinning on his heel. One step, he’s in casual clothes, but by the time he passes the doorway, he’s dressed in his normal suit. His magic is effortless and completely undetectable. There isn’t even a residual hum in the air.

“He’s acting like he just heard a weather report,” Alice grumbles, stomping into my room and flopping down on my desk chair.

“He said…” Connor whispers, his voice a little shakily. “He said I saw them or… saw something.”

I brush a lock of his hair back from his forehead and then slip fully onto the bed, curling around Connor. He buries his face into my neck and quickly falls asleep.